Changing the Past
by PeaceRoseG'ladheon
Summary: Dr. Kendrick said it himself. Alba is a time-travelling prodigy. So can she change the past? Something her father could never do? Rated T Just in case.
1. Witness

_Saturday, October 27, 1984 (Alba is 14) _

Alba: Cold. It seeps through my "borrowed" jeans and cardigan that look like they're from around the early eighties. I shiver. Snow swirls in the air, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself. I'm in the forest behind the Meadowlark house. It's strange thinking that I have stolen my own mother's clothing, seeing as she would have been my age about now, and the clothes were lying in a basket right near the glass door.

I trudge farther into the woods, the shin-deep snow accumulating on my pant legs, and the wind biting into the holes of these stupid, torn jeans. _Did she really wear these in public?_ I muse silently.

I've already passed the meadow, where my parents met. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I swallowed them back. I wonder if he will visit her soon. I wonder how old he would be. I absently fingered my empty pocket, where the sketch of my father that my mother had created would be if I had it. No, now it was probably on the floor, in a crumpled heap of clothes, or laying on my bed where my mother had picked them up and put them, awaiting my return home.

It had been nine years since my dad has died. My mom hasn't been the same since he's been gone. How could she be? She has spent her whole life with my father, and had to adjust to life without him. She keeps herself busy, always accepting requests for work, never just sitting around, that is, unless I'm travelling. I've gotten home on numerous occasions, and she is sitting in dad's chair, drinking tea, waiting.

Voices from nearby startles me out of my thoughts. Whispers and footsteps. They're close. I drop into the snow onto my stomach. They can't see me._ Please be Dad. Please be Dad_, I pray. Suddenly, two men step into view, dressed warmly, I observe with jealously. They come into sharp focus. Grandpa! And Uncle Mark! Grandpa's hair seems to have magically reversed it's white, and Uncle Mark has much more hair then in my present. They step cautiously through the snow, guns in hand. They obviously are hunting.

I start to make my way through the drifts on my hands and knees. I can't get caught. I crouch behind a dead bush, wiping the flakes off of my pants. The motion causes me to hit my hand against the bush's thorns, and I gasp. Grandpa whips around, and I take an involuntary step backwards. Snap! I twig breaks under my feet. I am frozen in fear, my heart pulsated in my ears. Even in the freezing weather, I am sweating. _Please_, I think, _Please God just get me out of here._ And, as if answering my prayer, Grandpa waves Uncle Mark into the abyss of trees, past where I am panting behind the hibernating shrubbery.

I stand still for several more minutes, calming my pounding heart, and then take off into the trees, running far where they cannot find me. I run, for who knows how long, until my legs ache and lungs scream at me to stop. I lean against a tree, pressing against the cold bark. That is, until, I hear a noise.

It sounds like a woodpecker, at first. I follow the sound, stepping past fallen logs and dead leaves. The clattering gets louder. I take a breath, and step into the clearing. A man. His teeth are chattering. Not hard to believe seeing as he's not wearing any clothes. My already scarce breath catches in my throat. My dark hair, my face. My father. He's on his hands and knees in the snow, his body convulsing in shudders. I can't move my feet. All I want to do is run up to him and throw my arms around him, but I can't. In everything I can do, my feet don't move, my mouth doesn't open.

Footsteps behind me; whispers. Oh no, please no. A gunshot rings through the air. The body before me crumples to the snow, then vanishes. I cannot scream. I collapse onto all fours. Drag myself into the underbrush. Curl up into a ball. My arms enclose around my knees. My entire body racks with sobs. I am cold, so cold._ Daddy!_

_Sunday, November 8, 2015_

I materialize on the kitchen floor, curled up in fetal position, tears running down my face. My heart aches. I hear Mama gasp and then scurry away. A few seconds later, she wraps a blanket around my shoulders and hugs me to her chest. I cry myself until my eyes are sore; until there is nothing left. I sniffle and sit up to face her.

"It's all my fault!"

"Shh. It's all right," she soothed, stroking my hair.

I jerk away from her. "No it's not! I did it! I killed him!" I cry.

"Alba-"

"No! I was there! I saw! I made them change directions! I made a noise, and they followed it. They found Daddy. They....they..." I cannot finish the sentence. Mama stares at me like I've lost it. So I explain everything. Where I time travelled, what happened, and how my actions had eventually lead to my own father's death. Slowly, as if she is forcing the words out of her mouth, she says,

"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have stopped it, or prevented it in any way. The past is the past. What's happened has happened, and you can't change that. It's not your fault. Do you understand?" Her words are stern and steady, unnaturally so.

I nod. She strokes my face, stares at me for a heartbeat longer, then rises and walks away. I sit on the cool tile, alone, with a painful ache in my chest. I could have stopped it. One word, I could have changed the way things had turned out. I tried to imagine my life with my father present. I remember him at the museum. His smile, his laugh. I remember Mama running to him, she was so close. The feeling when his hand disintegrated into mine. Vanished. Mama whispering _Henry _over and over, crouched on the pavement.

I tried to imagine Mama not being so quiet when he was mentioned. Not going to her bedroom and locking the door to cry. Not pretending to be okay. I wondered how she would feel if she had someone in the house with her, either Daddy or me, when the other was time travelling. Mama always waited. She has spent her whole life waiting for him to come back. And what happens when he never does? _Oh Daddy._

That was the first time.


	2. Meeting

Chapter 2

_Saturday, May 21, 2016_

I awaken, disoriented. I gaze around the room. A dresser scattered with pens, pencils, a sketchpad. A mirror. A white comforter decorated with several articles of clothing. My room. My time. I sigh, relieved. This wouldn't be the first time I have woken up in a different time period then when I had gone to bed. Throwing my feet over the side, I rise from my still warm covers. Dr. Kendrick has asked me to time travel in front of a group of medical students he is training.

I get onto my feet and the world loses focus. I gasp. I am gone.

_Saturday, October 26, 1991_

I slip past the rows of books, the wooden floors intensifying my footsteps as I move through the stacks. The weather is warm, and I was able to slip a T-shirt and jeans from a clothesline. I drift through the library, unsure of where I am, what time period I'm in. The library is nearly empty. As I near the end of the shelf, someone catches my eye. His dark hair is distinct to me. He stands in the light of the window, the sun casting a heavenly glow around his head. I see him as my mother did years ago, before he was in a wheelchair; before his dark hair had turned to a salt-and-pepper grey.

He turns to look at me; smiles. Walks over.

"Are you lost?" I am speechless. What do I say to my not-yet father? One who has never met me. I should say something profound, something that makes him notice me, that makes him so impressed, that he asks about my past and wonders who I am.

"Uh, history section?" I squeak. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He points to the other side of the library. I nod, and trudge off, mentally kicking myself._ Smooth._

I punch the elevator button, sulking at my stupidity, when a luminous amber-haired women steps through the doors. I am so shocked, I fail to move when she obviously doesn't notice me, and she walks into me, spilling her papers in the process. She apologizes and stoops to pick up her fallen documents. I still sit on the floor, too amazed to say anything. Until.....

"_Mama?"_ I breathe.

"Hmm?"

"I... uh....." I clear my throat and shake my head. I bend down and help her gather her belongings. Written on it is a note to check out _Chaucer _and another line bears a book title about papermaking.

"You wouldn't happen to know where I can find these, would you?" She says; an obvious attempt at communication.

I shake my head. "There's a help desk right over there." She smiles and thanks me and walks away. I feel compelled to follow her. _They're so close to each other! Have they met yet?_ I follow behind her. She arrives at the reception desk. I duck behind one of the shelves. He walks right behind her. The anticipation is killing me. _So close!_

Then, to my absolute satisfaction, the receptionist says "Perhaps Mr. DeTamble can help you." Mama turns around, and for the first time, my father sees my mother, while for my mother this is anyything but the first.

"_Henry?" _she breathes, her eyes going wide. Daddy looks absolutely stunned, he has no idea who she is, let alone what they had shared, and what they will eventually share.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

_Saturday, May 21, 2016_

I appear on the soft carpet of my bedroom; smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. I let out a whoop of joy. I hear footfalls pound down the hallway, and my bedroom door opens.

"Alba?" I turn; grinning so broadly she looks suspicious. "Where were you?" she asks.

I smile even wider. "October 26, 1991," I reply, "It was wonderful." Her eyes go wide with realization. She smiles, too, and starts to laugh. I laugh, too, and we laugh until we both have tears running down our faces. Because it was, of course, wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.


	3. Complicated

Chapter 3

_Saturday, October 27, 1984_

I can't move; can't breathe. _Daddy! _NO! No no no no no no! A gunshot; he's gone. Forever. Again.

_Friday, August 26, 2016_

I materialize in the living room. Tears running down my face, my throat is constricting and my chest is clenching painfully. I've lost count of how many times I have seen him die by now. _More times then I care to remember_ I add bitterly. I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much. I stand up with determination and walk quickly into my bedroom. I rip open my closet and throw on jeans, my Dad's old Nirvana T-shirt and a jacket. I grab my backpack and charge out of my room. I pass Mama in the hallway.

"Where are you going?" she asks, although she can see I'm steaming.

"Out," I reply harshly. I slam the door behind me. I push my bike out of shed and onto the street. I bike faster than I have ever before. My legs are a blur, and they ache, but I am too angry to even notice.

Half an hour later, I arrive at Dr. Kendrick's office. I lock my bike and shove open the doors, taking two steps at a time. I finally reach his office, I enter without knocking. He is sitting with his head bowed, but immediately looks up when I enter. He's a thin man, with thick wire-rimmed glasses and white hair that is streaked with his former red. _From the stress you and your father have caused me, _he jokes. Dr. Kendrick smiles, but it falters when he sees my expression.

"What's wrong?"

"What's WRONG? I have to witness my own father die! Again and again and again! I'm sick of it! I'm done. I'm done with this. I hate it! I want it to stop. It killed my dad, and it'll kill me too. I'm _**finished**_! Got it?" I collapse onto the floor, sobbing into my hands. I hear him approach, and crouch down next to me.

"Alba–" I look up at him; seeing my own sorry reflection in his thick glasses. I'm a mess.

"Make it stop," I plead. "Please." He sucks in a breath.

"I'm afraid I've been working on that for almost twenty years," he whispers. "I haven't found anything yet."

I can see my own jaw set in his glasses. "You have to have something. You have to."

"Well, Alba, I have been working on something, but it will require tests, lots of them, and we both know how your mother feels about them–"

"She'll understand. I'll make her understand." Dr. Kendrick shoots me a look that says he's not so sure.

"It's my body. I'll do what I want with it," I snap. After a long pause, he slowly nods. I smile, but it feels forced, and I can tell it becomes more of a grimace.

"So, when do we start?"

I arrive home much later than I had hoped, but my legs had throbbed and protested the whole way home, and I had waved off any offers Dr. Kendrick had to take me home. I hobbled up the walkway and into the house. As soon as I entered, I met a very angry Mama.

"_**Where were you?**_" She demanded. I was too exhausted to listen to her entire rant, but I caught most of it. I listened as she yelled; told me how worried she was and how irresponsible I had been.

"Well?" I looked her directly in the eye, ready to explain. Instead, I said,

"I was just out for a bike ride. I was mad because I time travelled and saw dad– well, you know. Anyways, I'm sorry to worry you." Her features softened.

"Go to your room," she said quietly. I nodded and walked out of the room. What was _**that? **_Why couldn't I tell her? What is wrong with me? I've never kept anything from her before. But then again, I saw the anger in her eyes. She wouldn't understand. She was always trying to protect me. She would forbid me to go. And I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Now breathe in. Good now breathe out," Dr. Kendrick coaches. I follow his instructions. He turns the monitor off and smiles. "Now I just need to take a sample of your blood." I nod and he approaches me. The needle bites into my skin. I watch as the vessel fills with my blood.

"You'd better get home, Alba." I slide off the table. "Dizzy? Nauseous?" I shake my head. He nods. "Get lost, then," he winks and I smile; bid him goodbye; and I'm off.

I arrive home, and, as always, Mama flutters around me. "How'd it go with Dr. Kendrick?"

"Good," I lie through my teeth. We have actually have made little progress at all. The treatment is still too new to test on a human, but seems to be some sort of poison with time travelling mice. I retreat to my room and lock the door. My head hurts, my arm throbs. I'm feeling a bit dizzy from the blood loss. Dr. Kendrick didn't take enough to harm me, but I told him I wouldn't be around for awhile, I was busy, so he took a little more than usual to ensure he has enough.

I can't tell him the real reason I can't come in is because my mother doesn't know. If go too often. Mama gets suspicious. He would stop right away. I think I'm safe, considering that Mama doesn't come into his office much. I think it hurts her to think about. I pray Dr. Kendrick can find a cure by the time Mama finds out. If not, I won't be allowed to do any more testing, maybe forever. I can't let that happen.

I take off my jacket and throw it somewhere on the floor. I flop down on the bed, too tired to even practice the violin today.

When did my life become so much more complicated?


	4. Lies

Chapter 4

_Monday, September 5, 2016_

Clare: I move throughout the house, picking up clothes, dishes, and other assorted teenage items. I hang Alba's clothes back in her closet, make her bed, and tidy her desk. When the room is completely clean, I pause to take in the site of it. Writing utensils litter the desk while pictures adorn the wall. I observe them, as if from a distance, a spectator of her life, instead of a participant. Pictures of Alba, her friends, her family, Charisse and Gomez's wedding anniversary. And finally, a photo of Henry and Alba, sitting together on the front step.

Their heads are bent together, smiling. Seeing them together, looking so similar, makes my chest ache. I miss him. Every day. I squeeze my eyes shut, just for a moment. _Henry. _

"Mama?" I stand up straight, put on a smile, and turn to meet Alba, who is waiting at the door. She leans against the door frame, her eyebrows raised in question, but she remains silent.

"Hi. I was just," I look around the room, "Uh, cleaning up. Grandpa is coming over for dinner tonight since he can't make it tomorrow for your birthday." She nods slowly. An awkward moment passes between us, before I tell her he will be here any minute, and leave the room.

"He's here!" I set the last wine glass on the table before walking to the front door. Richard smiles at me; and I greet him with an embrace. "Good to see you again," I say. He smiles back.

"Yes, you as well. I'm sorry I haven't been around for awhile..." I wave him off.

"Don't be! Please come in." I take his coat and we retreat into the living room. Before I can call her again, Alba emerges from her room, looking pale. She smiles anyways and runs to give Richard a hug. They talk until dinners ready, about school, the violin, Dr. Kendrick. As I set the last of the food on the table, Richard and Alba appear and sit down.

I can't help glance at the empty seat that should contain Henry. We eat in silence, the memories of the missing weighing down on our thoughts. I break the quiet by saying,

"So, Alba, how was Dr. Kendrick?" She quickly glances up; swallows her food.

"He's, uh, he's good. He showed me some new experiments he was trying. Nothing new." Her gaze fell back onto the plate. In this motion, I see her long, flowing sleeve peel back, revealing a red, bruised, oozing cut.

"Alba! Your bleeding!" Her eyes widen and she shifts her gaze to the crook of her elbow.

"Oh! That's, uh, that's nothing. I guess I took the bandages off too soon." My eyes narrow and I gently grab her wrist, turning it so I could see her arm. My whole body tenses.

"What is this? Did Dr. Kendrick do this to you? I told him–" She jerks her arms away.

"Stop! Just stop okay? I'm fifteen, it's my body! I'll decide what I want to do with it."

"Your a child, Alba! You can decide when your eighteen. Your still a child! I know the time travelling is hard on you, but–" I don't mean to yell, but I can tell my voice is rising.

"You don't know! You have no idea! You don't have a clue what it's like seeing your own dad die! Over and over again! And it's your fault! And you can't change it! No matter how hard you try!" Her voice is now beyond loud. "You can't possibly sympathize with me, can you? I'm done! I'm done time travelling. I'm done with the tests, the experiments, the doctors, the missing school. I want a cure. And if it means getting blood taken, getting needles, getting whatever it is he needs done, then I'll do it!

She storms back to her room like a tornado, and I am left to stare after her like I was destroyed in her wake. It takes several seconds before Richard says,

"I should go." An apology comes to my lips, but before I can even say it he waves me off; thanks me, and departs. After a few moments of shock, I get up and go to my room. I slowly sit on the bed and squeeze my eyes shut. I ragged breath escapes my lips.

When did my life get so much more complicated?


	5. Silence

Chapter 5

Alba: _Beep..........Beep..........Beep.........._

I slam my fist down onto my alarm clock, immediately silencing it. I sit up and rub my eyes. The room is dark, just a sliver of light forces it's way past the barricade of the curtain. The events of yesterday slowly come back to me. _The fight....._

There is no light coming from under the door. I slip out of bed and silently get dressed, then slip out the door. Grabbing an apple from the table, I tip-toe my way towards the front entrance.

"Alba?" I fluid string of curse words run through my head as I turn to face my mother. She stands in front of me, her expression unreadable.

"It's Saturday," she informs me.

"Oh, uh, I mean, it is? Guess I didn't have to get up so early then–"

"You were going to Dr. Kendrick's, weren't you?" she asks, although she already knows the answer. I sigh in defeat.

"Well–"

"Don't lie to me," she warns.

"Fine. I was. Happy?" I snap. Her brow furrows, as if she's in pain. _Oh Mama.... _"I'm sorry," I say, "But I'm going to keep doing this. You can't stop me!" I can hear the rebelliousness in my voice; the challenge.

"Why didn't you tell me you've seen your father die more than once?" I stare speechless, until I can remember how to close my mouth.

"I, uh, I don't know. It hurts you to talk about it. I know it does." My own reply startles me.

She sighs. "Alba, it doesn't hurt me. Well, I mean, it's good to talk about it. We shouldn't forget." Forget? I almost laugh. Forgetting becomes a lot harder when you see something almost every couple of days. Instead, I say,

"I know. I need to do this, though. Please," She says nothing. "Please?"

"Alright," she finally replies; her eyes squeezed shut.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I turn around, and walk out the door.

Mama and I eat dinner in silence that night.


	6. Change

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**Sorry it's taking me so long to update!!!! New chapter, though! Yay!**

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_Saturday, October 27, 1984 (Alba is 16)_

I land with a thud on the frozen ground, my knees scraping painfully on the revealed stones in a driveway. With a grunt, I pull myself off of the frosty drive and looked around. I am unsure of where I am at first, but then the world comes into sharp focus. The Meadowlark house. I prayed that it was not _that time _again. I couldn't watch him die again. I couldn't. But I was freezing, and I needed clothing. Badly.

Stars blinked in the sky overhead, and darkness swept around me, chilling my bare skin. I quickly made my way up the drive, my feet stinging from the cold of the ice beneath me. I snuck around the house, avoiding the many windows on the sides of the house. If this truely is _this time, _than Etta would have left the laundry basket inside of the basement and I could just squeeze through the tiny window and "borrow" some clothing.

But when I made it to the back of the house, I saw that the basement light was off, and that there was no laundry basket. I sighed. I had never been here in this time this early, and it must be even too early for even Etta to be up. _Great..._

Suddenly, the lights flicked on and I dark figure entered the room. I froze, pressing myself up against the cold brick brick. The figure moved around slowly and silently, turning it's head searching, for something. Another figure entered, and the figure ducked quickly behind the wooden table, disappearing from my vison. The second dark shadow walked into the room, looked suspiciously around, and then set a basket onto the wooden table and started back out of the room. _Etta!_

As soon as Etta had left, she turned off the lights, and I saw nothing. But just as I was about to move, the basement window opened swiftly, and then I heard the door close. I shivered and lowered myself into the room. I grabbed a few articles of clothing from the basket and slipped them on, wondering what on earth had just happened.

The sun crawled from beneath the horizon, it's beams pouring through the miniscule window. I sat on the floor, waiting for this horrible time travel to be over. I wouldn't go back to the forest. No, I wouldn't watch it. Never again.

But the door crashed open again, and I scrambled for cover. Etta marched into the room. She walked straight to the supply closet, and while her back was turned, I slipped from behind the heavy counter and crawled out the door. Once I was out, I ran full speed up the stairs and into the kitchen. It smelled clean and polished, not of baked bread and coffee as it always did when I visit, so I assumed that Nell isn't up yet and creep from the kitchen and into the enormous living room.

It spanned out before me, and I knew if anyone walked in I would be caught instantly, so I got on my hands and knees and crawled along the floor. When I got to the base of the staircase, I shot upwards and charged up the steps. If I made it upstairs, no one would be up and Nell and Etta wouldn't come up to the second story. I crept along the squeaky floorboards, praying that no one would wake up. I passed Aunt Alicia's room, then Uncle Mark's, and finally Mama's. As I pass the room, I hear her soft breathing. I turn to leave, but cannot make myself do it. I just.....can't.

I've felt this before. My actions now determine the future. I'm in no control of myself or my own body. I can't help it. The feeling is so strong that it roots me to my spot on the floor. These were the moments that I hated in time travelling. The ones where I knew something horrible would happen but I couldn't change it. I thought of my father, lying on the edge of the meadow. Dying. My legs started shaking, and I tried so hard to pull myself away. So hard, in fact, that I lost my balance and toppled to the ground. _Crash!_

I hear Mama gasp from inside the room and then I hear the pounding of footsteps. I grab the corner of the wall and drag myself around it, still on my stomach. I barely make it when Mama appears from here room, looking very young and quite flustered.

"Hello?" she calls, "is anyone there?" But I, of course, don't answer, and she charges down the hallway and towards Aunt Alicia's room.

"Alicia? Ali! Are you up? Open the door!" The door opens and Aunt Alicia stands in the doorway, her hair long and flowing down her back.

"_What_ do you want?" she says, her irritated whisper faintly reaching my ears.

"Did you hear that?" Mama whispers.

"No. Go back to bed," she says, and turns towards the bedroom before Mama grabs her arm.

"I _heard _something. I swear!" hisses Mama. Aunt Alicia just shakes her head.

"Just go to bed. And you _better _not wake Mama. You know she's having one of her 'bad days'." At that I wince. I've never met my Grandmother. Either one, in fact, but my Grandma Abshire was depressed throughout much of her life, I knew, and I knew my Mama worried about her all through her childhood.

Aunt Alicia shuts the door, leaving Mama standing in the hallway. I need to leave, I know, so I try to lift myself off of the floor, but the old boards squeak, and I freeze. Mama gasps, looks around wildly, then spooks and runs down the stairs. I can't help but follow.

She bursts out the back door of the house and towards the meadow. I run behind her, hiding whenever I can.

"Daddy!" she yells "Daddy? Mark?" Grandpa and Uncle Mark come into the meadow, looking at her strangly. I duck into the tall grass peaking from the top of the thin layer of snow and crawl on my stomach towards them.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" Grandpa asks. Mama is panting.

"Theres, theres someone in the house! I heard creaking and--"

Grandpa smiles and shakes his head. "Oh, Clare, the house is just creaking. There's nothing to be concerned about." Mama looks a little disbelieving, but finally nods. Grandpa smiles and kisses the top of her head, and she turns back and starts to walk back to the house. And then I start to feel dizzy, and then I disappear.

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_Saturday, October 27, 2018_

I appear in our backyard. I lay on my back and stare towards the sky. The sunrise has striped the sky with beautiful colours.

"Clare!" I turn and see Mama, hurrying outside with a heavy blanket. She wraps it around me, and I burrow into it's warmth.

"Where were you?" she asks, looking concerned.

"Meadowlark. October 27" I say, and she nods. It takes me a minute, but I realize that it is the anniversary of my father's death. Sort of. The anniversary of when he was shot. That was one of the worst parts. Most people had to go through one "death anniversary" but we had to go through two. Our time, his time.

Mama wraps her arms comfortingly around me. "I always wonder what would have happened if he would have gotten to the hospital just five minutes earlier." I sigh.

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Mama. He was already gone." She pulls away slightly and looks me in the eyes.

"Maybe not," she sighs and gets to her feet. "I still remember, though, taking him to the hospital," she whispers, her eyes filling with tears, "He told me to take care of you, Alba. Always the worrier." She gives a sad smile and pulls me to my feet and starts to walk into the house. I freeze. My father died on our living room floor. He was already dead when we took him to the hospital. I remember watching the ambulance lights. Busy. Swirling. Shouting. Crying.

"What happened?"  
"Henry!"  
"Please. Oh please. Oh no."  
"No pulse-"  
"Must be dead-"

I sqeeze my eyes shut, pulling myself away from the memories. "Alba?" My eyes burst open again.

"At the hospital?" I croak. She looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"Yes... Are you alright?" I nod, and she motions for me to follow her. I push my leaden feet forward. That did _not _happen. I remember it.

The events of the night ran through my head. I recalled the, the _feeling. _Yes, the feeling that had held me to the floor. I remembered falling to the floor and waking Mama. A chill ran down my spine. Had I changed it? Had I actually done it? I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh and dance and whoop for joy. I had done it! Hadn't I?

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**Voila!!!! I hope you like this, it was a little longer than my other ones have been. Please review!!!**


	7. Done

I exited school at a running pace, blasting past schoolmates and teachers. I spun the lock on my bike, freeing it from it's prison, and mounted it. Pedaling as fast as I could, I arrived at Dr. Kendrick's office twenty minutes later. I ran up the stairs and into the waiting room. The secretary smiled.

"Sorry honey, he's not here at the moment. He'll be back in about ten."

"Oh, shoot," I said, silently rejoicing. "I just need to ask a few questions. Can I wait for him?" She nodded, and I slipped into the office. I made my way over to his desk and flipped through paperwork. Nothing. I turned to the filing cabinet, but the lock prevented me from opening it.

"Come on, Kendrick," I hissed to myself. I looked around. _If I were him, where would I keep my keys? _I rummaged through his drawers, then moved to the potted plants on the window sill, digging through the dirt, my fingers closed around something cool and metallic. _Bingo. _Pulling the key from the the plant, I went back to the cabinet, pushing the key and hearing the click of the bolt. Sliding open the drawer, I pulled the ignored tabs towards me.

_Derrick, Desmond, DeTamble! _I pulled the file from the drawer. I knew Kendrick kept a file on all of his clients. I flipped through his thick file, holding back tears as I moved through his entire life written on papers. The last page was a newspaper clipping.

**_Man Dies After Unexplained Shooting_**

_Henry DeTamble, 43, was taken to the hospital on New Year's Day, just after midnight,  
with a bullet wound to his side. DeTamble died of blood loss and was reported dead at Cook  
County Hospital at 2:30 leaves behind a wife and one daughter. No reports  
__have been made of a shooting, and police are investigating..._

I blinked back tears. _Died of blood loss...._ I had changed it. He hadn't died at our house.

And suddenly, I heard Dr. Kendrick's voice, muffled by the wooden door. I put the article back and shoved the file into the drawer. I turned the lock and shoved the keys back into the potted plant. The door opened and I fly into the seat.

"Alba! Gretta said you were here!"

"Yeah, I was wondering if there were any side effects of the medicine," I panted, trying to wipe the guilt off of my face.

"Uh, a bit of drowsiness, dry mouth, but it says this on the back of the bottle," he watches me suspiciously.

"It does? Wow, now I feel stupid. Thanks Doc," and before he can reply, I'm gone. I avoid the gaze of the secretary as I walk out the door. _It had to be done... _I try to remind myself, but the guilt still creeps up. I pushed it back down. Whats important is I know the truth now. I changed the past. I can do it again. Maybe...

* * *

_October 27, 1984_

I sit on the porch of the Meadowlark, my feet dangling over the edge of the steps. I had just "borrowed" some of my mother's clothing, and I was unsure of the time period, but I had a sneaking suspicion. The sun began to move up into the sky, and I basked in it's glow. I knew I should probably get moving, since no one could know I was here. I picked myself up, and as I did, I caught the bright orange hunting clothes of my Grandfather and Uncle Mark. My chest constricted in pain. I knew what was happening next.

My breath became laboured and I couldn't move. It was like I was staring off into a television. I could watch, but not participate in life. I saw as the two disappeared into the forest. I just stared after them. _Move... _I ordered my muscles to move, twitch, _anything... _but I remained rooted to my spot. I squeezed my eyes shut, and mentally pulled away, away from my time; my body. And just like that, the world seemed to explode around me, and I was running.

I ran full speed towards the forest, my bare feet pounding in the thin layer of snow and the tall grass. I dodged the heavy branches which tried to slow me, trying to preserve their present. _I had to change it. _I raced into the clearing, and I could hear a rustling in front of me, and see the choppy images of orange through the branches and hanging underbrush. I could almost feel as they drew nearer and nearer to him. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Daddy!" Grandpa and Uncle Mark swung around. I dove behind a thick tree and ran in front of them. And I saw him. Daddy grabbed a branch and attempted to pull himself up. But then the shot rang, and he was gone. _Again. _

I materialize on the living room floor, panting and shaking.

"Alba?" Mama says. I look up at her, and she hands me my clothing. I quickly change, and recieve an embrace.

"I was worried about you," she whispers into my hair. I take a deep breath and gulp.

"What did Daddy say to you? His last words?" I ask, sounding slightly hysterical. Mama looks at me oddly.

"I don't know if we should be-"

"Please." My voice is cold, emotionless. She slowly nods.

"Alba, honey you already know this. We were talking on the deck. He told me it was time and-" My head shoots up.

"He died before he got to the hospital?" Mama nods, looking at me like she is concerned for my mental well-being.

"Yes.... he died just as he materialized." There are tears in her eyes. "I'm just glad he made it back to our time. Not many can last long with that kind of heart injury." Biting back tears, she shakes her head and rises. I watch her leave the room. _Heart? Heart injury? _I had changed it again! Stomach, side, heart. But he was still gone. I had never believed in fate, or destiny, or any of that, but it still happened, and I was just forced to relive the pain. Again and again. Maybe I altered details, but the horrible outcome remained the same.

I rose and stumbled down the hallway, holding onto the walls for support. I walked into my room in a daze and jerked open the desk drawer, grabbing the bottle. With shaking hands, I was able to pop open the lid and without hesitation, I swallowed the white pill dry. It left a bitter taste in my throat, and I took a ragged swallow. _It is done. _


	8. Daddy?

_Friday, November 16, 2018_

I sat in Dr. Kendrick's office. The clock on the wall ticked in rhythm, and it seemed to drag out his absence. I rapped my nails on the arm of the chair. He finally entered.

"Alba! I must apologize! Traffic on the north end is crazy today," he said, seating himself behind his disorganized desk. "Anywho, have you been taking your medicine? How is it going so far?"

I nod. "Yes. It's going fine. Dry-mouth, drowsiness, and a little dizzyness, also." He nods and types something onto his computer.

"Anything else?" I shake my head. He types quickly again, then looks up. "And no time travelling?" After a moment, I shake my head.

"Absolutely none." He smiles and continues to type. I don't know whether this is good or bad. I had wanted to change things. I had! But it had only brought me pain and suffering. He took a sample of my blood, several other tests, and then I was free to leave.

When I got home, I was greeted by Mama at the door.

"Well? What did he say? Did you tell him you haven't time travelled in two weeks?" I nod.

"Yeah, I did. Gretta is gonna call and set up an appointment sometime next week. It's his daughter's graduation." Mama nods, and we make our way back home.

We push through the doors, and Mama tells me she forgot her purse in the car, leaving me alone. I don't feel hungry with my emotions weighing down on my stomach, so I return to my room. As I walk through the door, I nearly scream and run back out, but I stay rooted to the spot. A man stands before me, his salt-and-pepper hair wild and unkept and dressed in jeans and a blue button-up. He turns as the door slams into the wall.

"Daddy?" I whisper, my throat constricting.

He smiles. "Alba." And I'm in his arms, tears streaming down my face.

"Why don't you visit me anymore?" I sob. "I haven't seen you in over two years. He kisses my hair.

"I don't know, Alba, this is the oldest I've eer seen you." I pull away, wiping the tears from my face.

"Where do come from?" I ask, trying to smile. He smiles back.

"December 30, 2006." I almost start to cry again. The day before he died. But that means...

"I won't ever see you again. Neither will Mama!" He shakes his head, looking like he wants to cry himself. I burst into tears again, and he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me.

"Alba?" I nod onto his shoulder. "Alba, you need to tell your Mama to get rid of these clothes." I look down at his clothing, saved for years in the event he ever came here. "I won't ever need them again." I nod, and I hear Mama come through the front door. Daddy looks up immediately.

"Clare," he whispers.

"Mama!" I scream and run into the hallway. She comes charging down the hallway.

"Clare!" His voice echoes through the house. I pull her into my room, and fall onto the floor, pulling the lifeless pile of clothing into my lap. They were still wet from my tears. I hear Mama lower herself onto her knees. We both cry.

* * *

Mama strokes my cheek, and tells me she is going to make dinner. I just stare ahead, my eyes sore and red. I travel, I get hurt. I don't travel, it finds me. Somehow. And what if I would have seen Daddy again if I would have travelled? I could have been with him.

With a pain-filled cry I throw myself off of the floor. I yank open the drawers in my desk, slamming them shut and moving on. Seizing the bottle, I rip off the lid, and throw it somewhere across the room. The bathroom door slams against the wall, and went to the sink. Pouring the pills into the bowl, I jerk on the taps. I watched in a raging fascination as the white powder swirled against the white porcelain, then was sucked down into the sink. My hands shake as I grab the taps once again, pulling them towards me. I step backwards until my shoulders hit the wall, and I slide down the wall, sobbing hysterically.

My cure was gone. My hope was gone. My father was gone. And I waited. I waited until the last of my hope disappeared down the drain.

* * *

**Okay, this one's a short one, I know, but I already have a plan for the next chapter, so I'll update soon! Please review!**


	9. Cheating, Kind Of

_Friday, December 7, 2018_

_Beep.....Beep.....Beep....._

I slam my fist down on my alarm clock. Pushing myself out of bed, I groggily make my way into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are lifeless, my hair is a mess. I had just stopped caring after a while. My head felt heavy, and as I gripped the edge of the sink, I slipped and fell onto the tile. I was gone.

_Saturday, July 12, 2008_

I materialize in my room. Well, my _old _room. When the walls were pink and the bedspread was covered in flowers. I stepped out of the room. The hallway was dark, and the house smelled faintly like eggs. It had to be just after breakfast. Mama's room was also dark, and I was able to steal an old shirt and pair of pants, with a belt, of course. Once I was dressed, I stepped out of the room and crossed the living room. Daddy's chair sat empty. Long since empty. The kitchen was spotted with dishes and utensils, unlike the way Daddy used to keep the kitchen clean and clear. It was if, for the first time, I noticed how completely different just our house was without his presence. With one last look at the house, I closed the front door.

The wind was warm and hard, and I fought against it. I wandered around until I came across Aunt Charisse and Uncle Gomez's house. I haven't seen them in so long. But as I walk past, I see Mama's car in the driveway. I run up to the door and am about to knock when I hear Mama's voice hiss on the other side. Something in my gut tells me to run away, but I sneak to the back of the house. Ducking low, I peek through the open kitchen window. Mama lays on the table. Uncle Gomez leans over hear, his hands on her shirt, pulling it.... NO! I duck bellow the sill and lean my back against the wall, my tears threatening to leak over again.

It all made sense now. Mama would never talk to Uncle Gomez like she used to. No, just Gomez. Things were awkward when it was just the two of them. I had just assumed that they weren't as good of friends as her and Aunt Charisse. But maybe it was something more than that. I think about looking again, but I couldn't make myself do it. This wasn't right. How could she do this to Daddy? And I felt it. The familiar feeling that I was rooted to my spot. rooted to my future. And as I heard dishes clatter in the kitchen, my rage boiled through me, spilling over the edge of my restraints. I shot up, feeling utter hatred run through my veins. I hated him. I hated what she did do Aunt Charisse. To Daddy.

And almost through no force of my own, I stoop and pick up a small stone from the edge of the deck. I gripped it tightly in my palm, and with one last breath, hurl it through the open window. The stone hurtles through the kitchen and straight to the mirror over the table, shattering it to pieces. Mama and Gomez pause, glancing at the shards of mirrors that lay throughout the kitchen. And finally, to my relief, Mama shoves Gomez off of her.

"Get away from me, Gomez!" she yells. "I never want to see you again!" She rebuttons her shirt and walks towards the door just as my seven-year-old self enters.

"Mama!" I cry. And Mama grabs my hand, thanks Aunt Charisse, and tells me we're leaving. I remember in my time, she was in the bathroom, most likely cleaning up afterwards. I shudder, suddenly feeling cold and dizzy. I fall to my knees, and I'm gone.

* * *

I materialize in the garden, my head spinning and my stomach retching. And I vomit into Mama's irises. _Very nice. _Wiping my mouth, I pull myself up onto my feet and stumble into the house. I am suddenly starving, and I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself as I make my way to the kitchen. I rummage around until I pull out cereal, and eat it dry; right from the box. I had changed the past again. And I had gotten sick. I hadn't been sick after time travelling since I was at least nine. I had already noticed that my worst side effects while time travelling had been when I had changed the past.

Changing the future must have had a large impact on my body, at least bigger than I realized. This was the first time I had time travelled since I started taking Dr. Kendrick's pills. I hadn't told anyone I had stopped taking them, which probably wasn't one of finer ideas, since no one would know where I was if I suddenly disappeared, but then again, I couldn't tell anyone what I had most wished for, for almost two years now, was to be in my own time. Permanantly. How could I tell anyone I had changed my mind?

Just as I finished the box, Mama walked in the door. I realized I was still in just a blanket, and I ran as fast as I could into my room.

"Alba?"

"Be out in a minute!" I called, throwing on my abandoned clothes.

"Alba! Come on! We've got to get you to school!" I glanced at my alarm clock. 6:37. I hadn't even been gone ten minutes. I shoved by books into my bag and headed out the door, trying to ignore the feeling of nausea.

* * *

**Okay, so I'm getting near the end of my story! Probably just one more chapter, maybe an epilogue.... We'll see ;) please review!**


	10. Broken

Last one!!! Dun Dun Duhhhh......

* * *

_Saturday, December 16, 2018_

I sat on my bed, staring at the wall of my room. _Vanish. _But I still remained in my time. My eyes bore into the photo of me and Daddy. I knew what I had to do, but I had to be with him, and that obviously wasn't happening. But I had tried. For hours on end , staring at that photo, trying to disappear, but I stayed stuck in the present.

"Alba!" Mama called me from the other room. With a groan, I pulled myself up and trudged into the living room. Mama stood before me, her arms resting on her hips. Her face was hard and angry.

"What is _this?_" She produce a small vial, one that had formally contained my medication from Dr. Kendrick. I gulp nervously.

"Yeah, uh, I just took the last one today. I should probably talk to Kendrick..." I say lamely, but Mama sees right through me.

"Don't you dare lie to me Alba!" she yells. "Why haven't you been taking them? And you threw them out?" I wince at the volume of her voice. Complete rage. I feel myself growing angry, too. It was _my _body. _My _life. She had no right!

"It's none of your business!" I yell. "Just leave me alone!" Her eyes widen, but then narrow with anger.

"Don't use that tone with me! Go to your room!" she shouts back. I have never talked to my own mother like that, but in this instant, I couldn't control myself.

"I hate you!" I scream, then retreat to my room, slamming the door shut. Tears pool at my eyes. I pick up the pillows off of my bed and throw them at the walls. My foot shoots out and topples over my chair, and I rip at the photos at the wall.

"I hate you!" I scream again, and sink to my knees, my face becoming covered in tears. And just as I want to leave everything behind, I evaporate into the past.

* * *

_Saturday, October 27, 1984_

**I hit the frozen ground, my head connects with the ice. Crap. I pull myself onto my feet. My head pounds and my ears ring. The stars twinkle overhead; the only light that helps me find my way throughout the snowy yard. I stand alone, my feet embeded in the tall grass peaking over the powder. Trees line my back, and the land stretches out before me. Quite a ways away from the field stands a tall, large brick structure. Meadowlark House.**

I wrap my arms around myself and trudge through the snow; my feet stinging and going numb. I needed clothes. Fast. My feet feel non-existant as I reach the basement window. I try to pop open the window, but it remains shut. This has never happened to me before. I try again and again, but it doesn't budge. But that means.... This is the earliest I've ever been here... But that also means I'd have to find another way in.

I sneak around the outside of the building, looking for an entrance. I finally pull myself up onto the deck. _Let it be there. Please let it be there. _And voila! I grab the spare key from the underside of the letterbox and shove it into the lock with my shivering hands. I slide open the screen door and enter the Meadowlark House. I glide over the wooden floors, trying not to wake anyone. I tiptoe past Etta's room. Pressing my ear to the door, I hear her stir within. I jerk away and run to the basement door. The old stairs creak as I step down them, and I scale them as fast as possible. With a faithful breath, I open the door to the laundry room. I flick on the lights. The spotless room is illuminated, but I don't see a basket on the table. I gaze around the empty room, when there is the creaking of steps echoing through the basement.

I duck just as Etta enters, and I crawl to the other side of the counter, praying she wouldn't see me. But she goes right to the table, sets down a basket, then leaves, turning the lights back off. I am absorbed in darkness. And suddenly, this moment is familiar. And I remember being outside, pressed up against the brick wall, praying Etta didn't see my shadow. I stumble around until I reach the wall. My fingertips search until they touch the cold, metal latch of the window. I click it open, then return to the basket, grabbing random articles of clothing and scurry from the room, just as my younger self slides into the room.

I jog up the stairs, pulling on clothing as I go. Etta is now in the living room, so I crawl on my heads and knees, ducking behind furniture. The lights flick of once again, and I am left to feel around for the front door. Unfortunately, my head hit the wooden frame. A faint clunk pounds through the room, and I slip out the door before anyone can find the source of the noise.

Needing to get away from the house, I run across the edge of the house. Bright orange figures start off into the meadow. Grandpa and Uncle Mark! I forgot about them! And then Mama bursts out of the doors and runs towards them, followed by my younger self. And the feeling. It makes my whole body freezes, and my mind screams at me to move.

_Run! Move! Do something! RUN! _And I break free of the grasp of fate. My bare feet pound against the ground as I charge forwards. But the future wasn't giving up without a fight, and it started to take it's toll on my body. Nausea overwhelmed me, and bile rose into my throat. My head seared in a firy pain, and my muscles screamed at me to stop. But I kept running. Twigs snapped painfully under my feet, and I nearly tripped several times, but my feet refused to stop.

And then I saw a flash of orange through the branches. My legs pounded faster, and my lungs felt like they were about to collapse. I could hear them get closer, and I pushed myself forward. _Faster. Please make it. You have to make it. _And I saw him. On all fours in the tall grass. I jumped, just as I heard the crack of a rifle. My arms closed around Daddy, and we toppled into the grass and powder. And pain explodes in my head. But when I hit the ground, my arms fell through and wrapped around myself. He was gone. And I was left in the bloody snow. Finally, the roar of my head exploded, and I was absorbed into only black.

* * *

**Well, I was going to stop it here, but...**

**

* * *

**I tumbled into the snow, my stomach churning violently. I retched and vomited. With a groan, I pulled myself up. The world span and then slowly fell into place. I saw a blurred image rush towards me.

"Alba!" The image sharpened, and Mama wrapped me in a blanket. "Alba! Oh thank God!" She cried and enclosed me in her arms. _Daddy! _I want to say, but can't manage to. _What happened to Daddy?_ "Your bleeding!" she screamed again, "She's bleeding!" And another figure rushes towards me.

"Alba? Oh thank God!" I look up, and my whole world feels pressurized and compacted. Daddy looks down at me, his hands on my shoulders. "Alba? Sweetheart?"

"Daddy," I whisper, then launch myself into his warm arms, sobbing hysterically.

"Henry! Oh, Henry, she's bleeding." Daddy pulls away, then inspects my hair, patting my head. His palm becomes stickly and red.

"Henry!" Mama cries again. Daddy grabs her hand.

"Clare? Clare! Relax, honey, it's a cut. It's not very deep. She's fine." _The bullet!_ It had grazed the back of my head. I gingerly touch the cut. I nod and burrow back into his chest. Daddy leans to my ear and whispers for only me to hear.

"Alba? I know, Alba, I know. But your Mama doesn't know what almost happened. You've got to calm down, yes? It's alright. I'm alright." I nod and pull away, sniffling.

"Sorry," I sniff, "I'm gonna get changed." I rise, and Daddy pulls Mama to him. She still looks concerned, but she visibly relaxes at his touch. _This is the way it should be._

**Just the epilogue left!!!! It's not quite done yet....**


	11. Epilogue

Have you ever been reading a book, and suddenly skip one hundred pages ahead and continue to read? At first you're completely lost; you have no idea how you got to where you were, and then you read something that falls into place. And little by little, you piece together what you had missed in those hundred pages.

Like, for example, I'll be riding my bike down Miller Street, and suddenly, I remember my tenth birthday party, when Daddy took me to the Musuem of Natural History. Or when I was eight, and I developed hypothermia after being caught in a snowstorm for an hour, and Daddy went to Dr. Kendrick's office and demanded a cure. Slowly but surely, the memories started to seep into my mind, and my new life started to stick.

At least I know my "other life" was a dream. Although it seemed so real at the time, I realized that Daddy dying had been a dream. It was recurring, though, and often haunted my sleep. I'd often wake up sobbing from the nightmares; the sheets hot and sticky with perspiration. Mama would run into the room, trying to calm me, and Daddy would follow several seconds behind her in his wheelchair. He would pull me to him and stroke my hair. _It was just a dream, Alba. Just a dream._ He would hold me until I fell back asleep.

* * *

_Saturday, May 11, 2019 (Alba is 17)_

My bare feet pad against the soft ground; my palms brush the tips of the tall; golden grass. The sun curls around me, surrounding me in warmth. It's a beautiful day, the snow has evaporated and the trees are lush and green. As I approach a vast expanse of trees, I slow from my run to a walk. My breath rushes from my lungs and I struggle to gather it back. I stop at the edge of the treeline.

Within these trees, my nightmares had been created. This forest had haunted my childhood. But I felt myself drawn forwards. Glancing backwards, I could barely see the Meadowlark house past the field of grass. Mama and Daddy were probably still sitting inside, having tea with Grandpa, Uncle Mark and Aunt Sharon. I turned back around. No one would no that I was gone. With one last breath, I stepped into the forest.

I ducked under vines and low hanging branches. Twigs snapped under my naked feet and echoed through the woods. In my dream, I had returned here so many times that I knew my way around; my mind was a map. I approached _the place. _The space where I had repeatedly seen my father, hunched on the ground, his stomach exposed in a bowl of blood. The very thought made me gag. I pushed away hanging debris of winter and moved towards it.

Letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding, I gazed around the group of trees. The forest floor was free of blood or any other body parts. I didn't know what I was expecting, of course it would be clear. Even if it was more than just a dream, the incident had occured almost thirty-five years ago. With a sigh of relief, I turned to exit the woods when I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye. I approached the flush of red against the greenery, and picked it up. A sweater. The material was damp and musty, and disintegrating in several places. Lifting my eyes, I saw a break in the trees. I pushed through the bush and into a small clearing.

It was littered in articles of clothing. Socks were scattered on the ground, as well as several pairs of jeans, jackets, shirts, sweaters, and cardigans. I ran my hands over a skirt that was tangled in the branches of a tree. It _had_ happened. They weren't just nightmares! I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. As I fingered each article of clothing, recognizing each one. I bit my lip to keep the tears from running down my face.

"Alba? Alba!" My head shot up. Daddy. I made my way out of the woods, trying to contain my confused emotions. Daddy stood in the Meadow, leaning heavily on his cane. I was suprised he had made it all the way up here with his prosthetics. I smiled and ran to him, wrapping my arms around him. He shifted his weight and pulled away slightly, holding on to me for support. The pad of his thumb brushed my cheek.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" His eyes held concern, but still sparkled in the sunlight. I shook my head and smiled.

"Absolutely nothing." He smiled again. I grabbed his arm, letting him lean on me, and lead him back to Meadowlark House.

* * *

_Saturday, October 27, 1984_

Clare: I pad down the stairs, my nightgown flowing around my shins. Nell has obviously been making pancakes, because the house smells of sweet batter.

"Clare?" I turn to see Etta approach. "Did you take your clothes upstairs, honey?"

I shake my head, and she scratches her head. "Then where have all your clothes gone?" She says more to herself than to me.

"They're _all _gone?" I ask. She shakes her head.

"Just the ones in the basket I put out this morning." I nod and Etta sets off to find Mama. I bet to myself it was Mark. It must have been Mark. I'll make him pay for that. But first, I'll eat. The warm odours fill my nose, and I float into the kitchen before Mark can reach to table and eat everything.

* * *

**The End! Thanks for reading!**


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